


Busy Fingers

by D3moira



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Beth Greene Lives, F/M, Fluff, Implied Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene, Implied Relationships, One Shot, Short One Shot, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D3moira/pseuds/D3moira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl can appreciate the solitary nature of guard duty. Except that it's only solitary for about as long as he can keep Beth away. (Post-Grady, happy Alexandria AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busy Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Implied Daryl/Beth, with her surviving thru Grady (because there is no other canon I adhere to).

Guard duty gave Daryl an excuse to keep his distance from the group, but keep them in sight. It gave him a purpose to stay within Alexandria, too.

But it made him feel -- he didn't have the word. Granted, there wasn't as much of a use for words now, not the bigger ones, the ones that helped clarify feelings and memories. The important ones came easy to him, yes, no, go, it's one-syllable words that get him by. This was something else, and it was somewhere between wanderlust and antsy, and neither fit him.

But it was something, and it made him shift on the spot, and he didn't care for it.

Daryl caught his chapped lips with his teeth, only stopping when he was sure it would bleed. He wanted to go forward, go _out._ He could find food for Judith, maybe some new clothes for her, too. Rick was busy with his sheriff duty, and with Michonne, and Daryl liked to help where he could. No one had to ask him to do things, not really. If you talked to him about something, he'd remember it. He'd pick and choose from all that people would spout his way, and fetch what it was they were after. He was a glorified delivery boy, but it was something, and he kind of liked it.

Standing up on the wall today, it wasn't what he wanted. No. He'd gotten back from a two week run to a strip mall a while away, with Glenn and Abraham, and he'd gotten back to Alexandria. antsy. That was the word he wanted to put there. It was hard, because you miss one stray motion, one little dot on the horizon, and you could jeopardize Alexandria. If you had a roaming crackshot with a sniper rifle, and shit was done. You didn’t get a do-over or a second chance. He’d been at the receiving end of a bullet to the head, and he didn’t want a repeat.

And so he watched, shoulders set, elbows on the frame of the corrugated iron wall. He was doing his best to focus out into the world. It used to be easy. Now? He's picking up the sounds of Alexandria, and the crackle of footsteps on gravel. Then the ladder was rattling, softly, someone coming up. Not someone. He knew better than to think it was anyone  _else_.

❛There you are.❜

And there shewas.

Beth; the part two of why he was tense. That was the word he had on the top of his tongue, before he'd come out here to replace it with a cigarette. He had, had her on the tip of his tongue, too, but that was beside the point. He didn’t shift, or acknowledge her. He remained still, eyes set out into the distance. He didn’t turn as she stepped onto the platform, or as she stood next to him. They stayed quietly standing for a good few minutes, all until she broke. She always did break the silent truce, only because he never would. They could stay in silence for a long while. She didn't speak so much as to annoy him, not since they had become closer. Because with how much he loved listening to her speak, it was near impossible for her to speak too much.

But silence wouldn't sit if she had something to say.

❛I’m sorry.❜ Beth is sincere, and it almost surprised him. He wasn't used to apologies, especially if he wasn't shouting or demanding them. Mostly, he let people treat him like shit, and let it slide. It was too much to demand more from people, at least day to day. Her apology, it's not needed. He doesn't want to hear it. She was only kicking up a fuss about apologizing because he had stormed off, and he'd been an overemotional pussy, and that wasn't something he wanted to be reminded of.

It's why he's up here, cigarette between his fingers, eyes on the treeline.

❛I didn’t know you were ticklish. I didn’t know.❜ Daryl doesn't have to look at her to know she's apologizing through a smile. From her breathing, and the light in her voice, she's trying not to giggle. A brief flash of anger takes to him. For a moment, he wants to shake her or scold her or something, to stop her but he doesn’t. He _wouldn’t_. Daryl wasn’t like his father, and he worked hard to be as _unlike_ his father as possible, and as _unlike_ Merle, for good measure.

But he wished he could at least stop her from talking, somehow, because this wasn’t a topic he wanted to breach. it was embarrassing, it was dumb, and --

❛It was cute, though.❜

❛ _Don’t._ ❜

❛I’m sorry. Really. This isn’t me tryin’ to make you feel bad, or _better_ , or anything. I’m just saying, it wasn’t something to get upset about. A lot of people don't like being tickled, I just hadn't expected you to _be_ ticklish -- ❜ Beth leaned towards him, trying to catch Daryl’s eye. He was pointedly looking in any direction except hers. ❛You can’t hate me because I worked out you’re ticklish.❜

Daryl turned, jaw set at a harsh angle, and smoke fuming out his ears like one of those cartoons in the morning. ❛M’not ticklish, th’fuck are you even tryin’ to say, Greene.❜

❛I was trying to say I'm sorry.❜ Beth puckered her lips in a knowing way, her eyebrow raised. ❛I was comin’ to apologize, not mock you.❜

Daryl kept looking at her, sure he was being clear. She seemed amused by it all, and he was _irate_.

❛ _But_   -- I know what I know, Mr. _Macho_ Dixon. I won’t tell a soul. It’ll be our secret. I promise.❜

Add that to all the other little secrets they had going. It was like the little secrets out behind the houses, between the newly planted tomatoes, by the guns store, the inventory room. Where in this little town hadn't they made promises, to keep little secrets. It was one after the other, and a new one now, as she leaned up and in to kiss him. It was brief and sweet and he felt his shoulders tighten, then drop.

Daryl leaned back, leaned away from her, too _antsy._  He was all nerves and anger and total embarrassment. Beth remained with him, a rifle in hand and a keen eye on the horizon. It was easier, watching it with her. In time, he settled, he stopped glaring sideways at her, stopped blaming her for a dumb moment he’d let happen. He was flush to the back of his neck, leg jittering, knee bouncing, while she was cool as a cucumber. This was always how it ended up. Beth was leagues above him in maturity and confidence, and he was doing his best to play catch-up.

❛Was still cute, though. You _giggled_. I didn't even know you could giggle. And your face went all _red_. Like now.❜

❛Shut it.❜ Daryl rocked sideways, body checking her gently. He had set his hand on her hip, to make sure she kept her balance. Didn’t want her toppling over the wall. Or maybe he wanted an excuse. He was trying not to smile, even as she returned the favor, cuddled up to his side, hand dipping into his back pocket, both of them trying not to smile too much. It was sweet, and simple, and not a secret to anyone at all.

❛Greene, I swear – ❜

Beth had snaked her hand up, fingers dancing along his sides beneath his shirt and vest. She snapped her hand back to his belt, thumb looped into it. He didn't need to look at her to know she was pouting, mock innocence. ❛I didn’t do a thing, I swear on my cross.❜

But she had, and he only hated her a little for it.

That was a lie; he couldn't hate her if he tried.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot even really explain this, except that Daryl really doesn't like being tickled because he is really ticklish, and it seemed like a cute idea.


End file.
